


Blinded Dates

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Date, But Other Than That All, Cas Gets a Wardrobe Upgrade, Cos I'm Just as Big a Sap as the Characters, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mastermind Sam, Men of Letters Bunker, Oblivious Dean, On Dean's Behalf, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Shipper Sam, Surprised Dean, Surprises, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12755892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Dean!” Sam yells outside Dean’s door after shaking the hallway like Clifford the Big Red, Eager Dog. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”Dean scoffs. Since when has Sam been this excited for a hookup? Are they bringing limited edition copies of Harry Potter or something?





	Blinded Dates

**Author's Note:**

> After last episode with Sam and the SHIT-EATING GRIN AFTER DEAN CONFIRMED CAS AS HIS WIN I HAD TO WRITE THIS. SAM TOTALLY COMPLETELY SHIPS IT WOW.  
> Also, this was completely inspired by Shane Dawson's video where he sets up his best friend Garrett Watts on a surprise blind date and totally overkills his role as matchmaker watching Garrett and what could be his future boyfriend interact the whole time and I just went, "S a m." cx

Twins.

Two girls for two strong, dangerously co-dependent men.

Honestly, he didn't think his baby brother had it in him. Sure, Sam will flirt with the occasional girl, but he either has his Lego blocks stacked too high for her to climb over, or is more oblivious than a kid on cough syrup to see she's into him past innocuous conversation. How he managed to strike up a conversation with not one, but two girls at once will perhaps be the greatest unsolved mystery to date.

Dean shakes the last of that thought as he fiddles with the collar on his black leather jacket. He moves onto wondering how long it's been for _him_. God, Dean remembers a time when girls would froth at the mouth just to talk to him. And Dean would be lying if he said it didn't feel good, the attention, the praise. He felt like a God mingling with the mortals. Most of all, he felt the sting of self-loathing a little less. Nowadays, it's more than there: It's festering and spreading like a virus throughout his body.

But tonight, he'll indulge. Cas is upstairs, probably catching up on a dozen Netflix originals since he's... and Sam's, for some reason, stomping around in his room. Jack's in his room, filling in for Sam, looking into more cases. Dean can finally... yeah, that's a breath he just took. When he does that, though, he feels the white t-shirt underneath strangling him. Dean would like to think it's because he's gained more muscle, but he can't really explain the three burgers he scarfed down earlier—much to Sam's chagrin, for some reason. Sam usually criticizes Dean's eating habits, but this time it was like Dean ate an entire cow in front of him.

“Dean!” Sam yells outside Dean’s door after shaking the hallway like Clifford the Big Red, Eager Dog. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

Dean scoffs. Since when has Sam been this excited for a hookup? Are they bringing limited edition copies of _Harry Potter_ or something? “Okay, okay!” He turns back to the mirror one more time and combs his fingers through his gel-lubed hair. “Jesus, Sammy,” he curses once he’s joined his brother in the hallway, “you’d think we’re meeting the Bella Twins or something… oh my God, are we going out with the Bella Twins?”

“The Be—no, Dean. Seriously, with the wrestling references?” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. He starts walking again, taking brisk strides. Dean can barely keep up.

“Okay, Crabby, at least tell me what they look like then.”

Sam tries to hide what looks like a smirk as he smacks his lips. “Okay. Brown hair, blue eyes. Kinda tall.”

“I taught you well, Young Jedi,” Dean says, clasping Sam’s shoulder.

“Chaa, and I’m the nerd,” Sam mumbles. Once they reach the bottom of the staircase that leads to the study room, Sam stops to face Dean. “Okay, so just go straight into the library, everything’s set up.”

“Whoa whoa,” Dean says, grinning, “you brought them back _here_? My man.” He proceeds forward, plunging into the library, which is cut off from the light minus a few candles illuminating a whole dining set, complete with napkins, utensils, wine glasses, and even some fancy China plates, on them slices of pizza. “Dude, this is amazing. You did all this?”

Sam nods, unable to contain his smirk now. “And more.”

Dean’s mouth parts in question, but before he can get the words out, a third figure emerges from the staircase. Dean turns around and instead of being met with one of the brown hair, blue-eyed twins, he’s met by Cas. But not just any Cas. Cas wearing an open sleeveless black leather jacket over a matching short sleeve t-shirt with a _Led Zeppelin_ logo paired with black skinny jeans, loafers, and for some reason, a black and white flannel that looks suspiciously like one of Dean’s (then again, that could be _anything_ in his closet) is tied around his waist—hanging off his legs the same way Dean’s mouth is currently hanging open.

Dean tears his gaze away from the sight of his Abercrombie model best friend to his brother. “So… this is a triple date? Are they triplets?”

“ _Dean._ ”

“What??”

Sam sighs. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

“I, um… I bought you flowers.”

Dean turns around to face Cas again, who’s nervously thrusting out a bouquet of red roses.

“Remember when you dropped me off at Nora’s?” Cas asks, stepping closer. “Well, these aren’t from her patio; I got them at the store. Or rather Sam did because, um… anyway, they’re a symbol of my affection for you.”

Dean shifts in his stance. “Wait, Sam…”

“Arranged a blind date between his hopelessly romantic big brother and his best friend because he’s the best little brother in the world?” Sam interrupts. “Yes, yes he did.”

Dean’s heart starts to race. He hasn’t been nervous for a date since Robin. But this isn’t just a man standing in front of another man asking him to love him. This is Cas. His best friend. His heavenly partner in crime. The thought of even holding his hand makes Dean’s chest swell with anxiety because he’ll somehow mess it up. He already let Cas go once, and look where that got him. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you, for one!”

Dean closes his eyes, trying to block out his brother’s meddling voice. When he opens them again, he tries facing Cas with a smile. “ _Thank you,_ Cas,” he stresses, taking the roses. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“And me!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “And _you,_ Sammy! Okay? Jesus Christ.”

“You were just caught off guard?” Cas finishes, smirking. “I was too. Sam threw me into a car and suddenly we were at a high-end retail store which made no sense. They had ripped jeans. Ripped. Damaged. How can they call themselves high end with ripped jeans? That’s like paying for half a burger. It’s a crime…”

Dean usually doesn’t let Cas rant like this, but it’s because he denies himself to see just how adorable Cas is when he does so. Dean doesn’t deserve him. He knows he doesn’t. But time again, Cas tries to prove that he does. Like right now. And it’s only fair Cas knows how much he means to Dean, so as Cas keeps rambling on like the Book of Skynyrd taught him to (or rather like Dean taught him on a drive one night, preaching about a passage out of _Street Survivors_ ), Dean takes the opportunity to reach out with his free hand, press his palm against Cas’s, and intertwine their calloused fingers.

Cas stops dead in his diatribe. When he looks down at their joined hands, he blushes and then the smallest smile puts a crack in his face. Dean smiles too, finding it easier to do so now, the pressure in his chest suddenly gone.

“Okay, I’m just gonna…”

Dean doesn’t turn around, but he assumes Sam left after that because that’s the last he hears from him. This time, he doesn’t pay attention to Sam’s annoying moose stomp. Or fiddle with his collar. Or care about how much weight he’s gained (he’ll still insist it’s _bloat_ ). Everything’s drowned out by the way Cas is looking at him right now.

“Do you want to…?” Cas asks, gesturing shyly with his own free hand to the awaiting candlelit table.

Dean nods, still smiling and still joined with Cas’s hand as he guides them into the library.

It’s not the last time Dean will hold it, either. And it won’t be for a long time coming.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cas's look was borrowed from this picture: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/ff/7e/f9/ff7ef93e808d5e202afb12f2f84a6cef--mens-grunge-fashion-grunge-men.jpg


End file.
